I guess it really started when I was in college in Georgia. Living at one of the highest points around, I consistently saw some of the most dramatic and awe-inspiring sunsets. On a regular basis the sky would complete clear and I would watch the orange orb as it sun behind the horizon. It often coincided with when I was finishing dinner so I typically didn’t have to plan to see the sun setting, it just happened that way.
Sunset chasing became part of my college life. Even to the point that after those four years I would still do it. Any time I’m back on that mountain in north Georgia I make a conscious effort to find a spot before the sun goes down so I can enjoy those moments. It often results in randomly running in to other people doing the same thing, and when I frequented those overlooks more often the people I ran in to were frequently people that I already knew.
Unbeknownst to my college self, I would leave those mountain-side sunsets for the same experience, in a very different environment. And it was that new environment that really solidified the opacarophile in me. Not to say the sunsets from Lookout Mountain weren’t special, but watching the sun sink into the ocean while sitting on the warm Hawaiian sand just took it to another level. The sunsets I experienced in Maui have probably spoiled sunsets for me for the rest of my life, but honestly, it’s not that surprising. The sun would sink behind the waves and just when you think it was over, the clouds would explode in a grande finale that would put every 4th of July firework show I’ve ever experienced to shame.
While the clouds really help to enhance most sunsets (assuming they’re in the right position), it’s the cloudless sunsets that really stick with me. Watching the sun drop out of the sky and disappear sliver by sliver is something that I will always love, whether it is over an ocean or the mountains of Georgia. The moment the final ray of light disappears is one that I have difficulty describing.
For about two seconds, no matter what is happening around me, the entire world falls silent. Everything stops. Every sunset comes flooding back to memory. Every person I’ve ever watched the sunset with is suddenly back watching with me again. For about two seconds, nothing matters, and the world is at peace.
It’s this feeling that I wanted to immortalize. It’s the memories of all the places I’ve watched the sun set, all the people I’ve watched it with. It’s the sense of peace I feel every time. And while it’s obviously not plausible to watch the sunset every night, I can see a representation of it on my arm. A constant reminder that despite whatever is going on, there’s a way to feel at peace.
